Traveling
by Nevah
Summary: While on the road, Trowa Heero share their (somewhat stunted) version of an emotional moment...


Watched episode 13 ('Catherine's Tears') again, and was inspired to write a fic. For those of you who know the ep, the scene will probably be familiar; for those of you who don't, well, it most likely make sense anyway. At least, let's hope it will.

No particular warnings to administer, save the very slight hints of 1+2 and 3+4. Well, that, and a fair amount of angst.

All usual disclaimers apply, in particular the one about me not owning anything. Really, I don't. Even half the plot belongs to a bunch of corporate execs somewhere. Kind of disheartening, to think of it that way

And reviews are always lovely, by the way, so don't be shy. J

~*~

Trowa shifted the gears of the enormous truck, pulling its tonnage into an easy cruising speed for the long stretch of highway ahead. Heavyarms was laying peacefully behind him on the load-bearing part of the vehicle, covered with a thick tarp that flapped in the breeze as the rushing air currents lapped at it viciously, and Heero Yuy was seated next to him in the cab, scowling out the window at the landscape blurring past them. The two hadn't spoken since they left the circus, _probably because we ran out of business to discuss_, Trowa reflected, as he adjusted the visor to block the light of the setting sun. Neither pilot was known for getting particularly personal about anything, a reality that did very little to promote conversation between them.

Reaching across Heero's lap to dig in the glove box, Trowa extracted a map to do a double check on the route to their final destination. He sensed the motion of his traveling partner's eyes as they briefly flicked from the window to the disturbance and back, but Heero made no other sign that he'd even noticed. The former Wing pilot was evidently lost in deep thought, though pondering what, Trowa couldn't even begin to guess. Where he simply considered himself to be naturally quiet, Heero was downright antisocial. After all, Trowa was polite enough answer a question when asked; Heero would probably just wave his gun around and look surly.

So, Trowa was shocked nearly to the point of running the truck off the road when he suddenly felt large blue eyes staring into the side of his head and heard Heero clearing his throat to speak.

"What were you thinking about, when you almost self-destructed back there?"

Not taking his eyes off the road, Trowa took a deep breath before answering. "I was thinking about the right thing to do, of course." Could it be? Was this guy actually making conversation?

Heero grunted. "No, I mean, what were you thinking about when you thought you were going to die."

"Did my life flash before my eyes, that sort of thing."

In his peripheral vision, Trowa saw Heero's head give a slow nod.

Immediately his mind jarred back to that moment, mere hours ago, although it felt like years. He'd meant for it to be his final battle, the best and last way for him to serve his cause. Heero himself had told him to follow his emotions, wherever they lead, and self-destruction seemed to be that place. There hadn't been any doubts, any fear holding him back, until--until Catherine. He could remember the way she looked, so small and fragile as the mobile suits closed in on her, the memory of it still tickling his throat with the ghosts of fear. He'd known she would die if he didn't save her, and so of course he did the only thing he could. He protected her, abandoned his plan. She was right when she said that he was selfish, that he hadn't been thinking of those he would leave behind--well, mostly right anyway. Trowa's breath caught for a moment as he realized someone /had/ been occupying those fragmented moments of thought as he battled, a blonde-haired blue-eyed someone who was so much like him, yet infinitely stronger

"I wasn't thinking of anything," he finally offered, giving no explanation for his hesitation. "I was simply acting on my emotions." He could feel Heero's cold glare at this answer, and he successfully swallowed the overwhelming urge to smile. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but it was hardly the truth. He wanted to ask where the question had come from, but instinct warned him that it would probably be a useless if not foolish inquiry. 

After a moment of silence, however, his curiosity got the better of him. "Why? What were you thinking of when you thought you were going to die?"

Heero didn't even acknowledge the question; he simply stared out the window again, mentally retreating to wherever he'd been hiding before their strained fraction of discourse. Trowa knew he should just leave the guy alone and go back to concentrating on the drive, but some twisted, masochistic part of him didn't want to let the subject die. There was a reason Heero had asked, and he wanted to know what that reason was.

"You talked in your sleep. Well, your coma, really." He hadn't really been planning to share this information with Heero, but it suddenly seemed like the perfect time to reveal it. His fellow pilot's head snapped fiercely in his direction, but the dangerous eyes didn't lift to meet his own. The movement had been a reflex of anger, although it was clear that Heero was trying to pretend otherwise. It was also clear that he was wrestling with a powerful desire to inquire about what he said in his state of unconsciousness, but that he was too proud to ask. 

"You called Relena's name," Trowa offered neutrally, noting as the pilot seemed to exhale in relief at this, "and Duo's."

Heero looked at him this time, squarely, color rising along the edges of his fair cheeks. A nerve had been hit, and Trowa had a pretty good idea precisely which one.

"You were thinking about him, weren't you." He managed to say it in the same even tone he said everything, but the words were impossibly heavy somehow, and they hung in the air of the truck like a leaden fog. He could understand; he wouldn't want to talk about it either, especially if someone cornered him like this. But he did wish that Heero would bear in mind who brought up the subject, and stop wasting so much energy looking menacing. The boy was injured, and even if he /did/ try to attack Trowa for his presumption, he could never be fast enough in his weakened condition.

The Perfect Soldier seemed to realize this, and finally relaxed in defeat against the door. "I'm not in love with Relena," he said after a long pause, not breaking his locked gaze with an invisible spot on the windshield. He was so detached, so separate, that Trowa wasn't even sure he was talking to /him/; it was more as if he was just talking. "I'll never be in love with Relena, no matter how often she wishes otherwise."

"Why not?" Of course he knew why, but he wanted to see if Heero would say it.

"I can't love. I fight. I have no need for love."

This wasn't the answer he thought to be the real one, but nor was it surprising. "I don't think that's true."

"Of course it's true. A soldier shouldn't confuse his duties." Heero sounded affronted at the accusation of an inaccuracy.

"No. I meant, I don't think that's the reason."

Another moment of tension passed between them, both mentally sizing up how far the other one would go. "And what do you think the reason is." There was a challenge in the words, a dare to test exactly how brave Trowa really was.

__

You can act as tough as you want, Heero, but I'm not afraid of you. "You're in love with someone else."

Heero's eye twitched visibly, a gut reaction suppressed. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it."

The blue-eyed boy returned to staring darkly out the window, and both understood it not to be an admission of defeat, but a dismissal. In the silence Trowa let his mind wander some, but he promptly brought it back as it began to linger in places he'd rather it not be. Suddenly angry, he glanced away from the road to regard Heero with the coolest, flattest gaze he could manage. For reasons that escaped him, he was in the mood to stir up trouble.

"You should try following your own advice, Heero."

He received a vicious stare in return, but nothing more.

"You know, about following your emotions." Trowa took care that his voice still never wavered from its even, methodical tone, which he knew to sound pleasant, indifferent, and dangerous all at once.

Heero's hand drifted up to cradle the bandaged part of his arm, and Trowa saw him wince painfully from the corner of his eye. It was clear from the vacant expression his face that he was doing as Trowa himself had done, travelling back in time to the moment when he decided to push that button. It wasn't an easy decision to make, they both knew that, and Trowa suspected that also like him, Heero would never do something so bold for his own sake. He didn't value himself enough for that. No, he had done it for some other reason, perhaps for the good of the mission, or for Duo, or even for Relena. But whatever it was, it was obvious that he hadn't done it to further his own interests. He gave his life for someone, or something.

"I don't love Relena," his passenger repeated finally, his voice, as well as his thoughts, impossibly far away.

Not sure how to answer, Trowa changed lanes and kneaded at the steering wheel. After a long moment of thought, however, he finally understood: the only way Heero could really speak of love was to not speak of it at all. It was easy enough for him to say that he /didn't/ love someone, but that was as close to the truth as he could allow himself to venture.

"Does it still hurt?" Trowa briefly eyed the arm Heero favored, before sharing a gaze with him directly. In spite of his words, it was obvious he wasn't inquiring after external injuries.

"Yes." 

Trowa nodded solemnly, knowing the effort it must have taken the boy to speak that one word. "The pain will fade, eventually."

At first Heero didn't recognize the significance of the statement, but after the space of a few seconds, he stared at Trowa in wonder. There, it had been said; now Heero knew. Forcing his glance away, Trowa stared at the expanse of asphalt ahead of them. They still had so many miles to cross, and nothing left to say to one another. He supposed that words would come sooner or later-- words of business, words of necessity-- but for now they could only ride in silence. In this perfect quiet Trowa allowed his mind to travel to a place where he could think of love without fear, and he hoped, for his own good, that Heero was doing the same.

~*~


End file.
